Containing more highs that a skyscraper sightseeing tour and Tetris addictive, ‘Images Of Sigrid’ is the rollickingly deranged follow-up to Poni Hoax’s eponymous 2006 debut.
It pulls out of Kling Klang station on taut motorik lines, the beat throbbing like Oliver Reed’s temples after a night on the lash. “All love is built upon the ashes of a shroud” and similarly portentous lines are intoned in a dread monotone. Does this sound like your idea of fun fun fun? To be honest the paranoiac twitching of ‘The Paper Bride’ is a somewhat incongruous introduction to this Joakim-produced record, one whose default is serotonin-boosting electro pop mayhem.
Just listen to the saxophone-led breakdown to ‘The Bird Is On Fire’, a song that takes Manc mardybums New Order and douses them in some Parisian cool, the male and female voices surging over a cocophany of gleeful keys and stalactite cool percussion. Having lulled us into believing that all is going to be streamlined ‘80s-tinged electro, they then lob us the sonic hand grenade of ‘Pretty Tall Girls’, a song that detonates with a punk-rock shrapnel blast, guitars going blitzkrieg bop behind juggernauting rhythms.
Then our French friends only have the audacity to land the killer one-two of ‘Antibodies’ and the beatific title track. ‘Antibodies’ should already be nestling high on your Last FM chart, but if you are not familiar with its charms we suggest you make its acquaintance immediately. Here keys crackle and guitars prowl with the insatiable intent of mating season Russell Brand. It could be the theme tune to Starsky and Hutch, and I mean that as the highest possible praise. ‘Images Of Sigrid’ meanwhile is a swooning kiss of a song, the chorus a heavenly reverie: “There are no clouds / Only blue skies.” Stoned out of their noggins, I tell thee.
The only problem is that, five tracks in, we’ve reached the album’s zenith, albeit a glittering one. At 13 songs and 75 minutes, ‘Images Of Sigrid’ can begin to feel overly long. The post-punk snarl of ‘My Own Private Vietnam’, whilst interesting, lacks the urgency evident elsewhere, ‘You Of The Broken Hands’ feels undeveloped and ‘All Things Burn’ is jarring and repetitive. Still, there remain moments funkier than Rick James’ jockstrap. ‘You’re Gonna Miss My Love’ is stuttering, taunting guitar-pop, ‘Crash-Pad Driver’ pyramids towards a brilliant peak, whilst ‘The Soundtrack Of Your Fears’ is a lovely winding down, guest-vocalist Olga Kouklaki sad and serene.
Meanwhile, ‘Hypercommunication’, with its laser beam synths, sends us skyrocketing back toward the absurdly pleasurable terrain of the early tracks. However, the final ‘Faces In The Water’, whilst we appreciate its dreamily blissful vibe, don’t half drag on. Over 13 minutes in fact, and within the first three you’ll be contemplating whether it’s time to drop Robinho from your fantasy football team. Still, when they’re good, Poni Hoax are trés bon.
